be a
comfort to me to know that it was kep' clean and neat. I should take it
kind of you if you'd give it a brush or two with your hand when you're
near it--for I never hope to see the place myself; no more."

* * * * *

Sadly and thoughtfully, Valentine returned alone to his own house. He
went up at once to his wife's room.

As he opened the door, he started, and stopped on the threshold. Madonna
was sitting on the couch by her adopted mother, with her face hidden on
Mrs. Blyth's bosom, and her arms clasped tight round Mrs. Blyth's neck.

"Have you ventured to tell her all, Lavvie?" he asked.

Mrs. Blyth was not able to speak in answer--she looked at him with
tearful eyes, and bowed her head.

Valentine lingered at the door for a moment-then softly closed it, and
left them together.

CLOSING CHAPTER. A YEAR AND A HALF AFTERWARDS.

It is sunset after a fine day in August, and Mr. Blyth is enjoying the
evening breeze in the invalid room.

Besides the painter and his wife, and Madonna, two visitors are present,
who occupy both the spare beds in the house. One is Mrs. Thorpe, the
other Mrs. Peckover; and they have been asked to become Valentine's
guests, to assist at the joyful ceremony of welcoming Zack to England on
his return from the wilds of America. He has outstayed his year's leave
of absence by nearly six months; and his appearance at Mr. Blyth's has
become an event of daily, or more properly, of hourly expectation.

There is a sad and significant change in Mrs. Thorpe's dress. She wears
the widow's cap and weeds. It is nearly seven months since her husband
died, in the remote Welsh village to which he retired on leaving London.
With him, as with many other confirmed invalids, Nature drooped to her
final decay gradually and wearily; but his death was painless, and his
mental powers remained unimpaired to the end. One of the last names that
lingered lovingly on his lips--after he had bade his wife farewell--was
the name of his absent son.

Mrs. Thorpe sits close to Mrs. Blyth, and talks to her in low, gentle
tones. The kind black eyes of the painter's wife are brighter than
they have been for many a long year past, and the clear tones of her
voice--cheerful always--have a joyous sound in them now. Ever since
the first days of the Spring season, she has been gaining so greatly in
health and strength, that the "favorable turn" has taken place in her
malady, which was spoken of as "poss